Page 99 of Ruthless Reign

Ava Jade would have my fucking head if she knew I wasn’t eating properly, but how the hell was I supposed to have any sort of appetite with all this shit going on?

“Whoa, Vixen.”

Kaleb shot to his feet to steady me with one hand on my elbow and the other on my lower back. “On second thought, how about some water first, yeah? Maybe some food. I’ll cook?—”

I winced and he pursed his lips with a guilty nod. “Okay, no cooking. Hear you loud and clear. Some crackers at least?”

I let Kaleb feed me crackers and refill my water glass twice before I felt mentally and physically ready to face Hardin. He didn’t say a word while I ate, letting me think through it all while Aodhán dozed across the room with a knot tightening and loosening in his brow.

“Maybe a shirt?” Kaleb said as I got to my feet and eyed the back door. I looked down at myself, remembering I’d torn it up to make a sling for Aodhán. I’d literally given him the shirt off my back. And I didn’t even think about it aside from knowing that it would piss Hardin off.

God. I was behaving like an idiot.

I’d blame the lack of sleep and proper hydration but I knew that really it was just me. Just this bruised heart trying to heal. Find ways to love. To trust. And rebelling against me every step of the way.

“Here,” Kaleb used one hand to pull his shirt from his back and stood. “Arms up.”

I snorted, but lifted them for him to slip the shirt over my head. It was still warm from his body.

“How is it?” I asked, laying a hand ghost-soft against the fresh bandage on his chest.

“I barely feel it.”

“You’re a shitty liar.”

“Takes one to know one,” he winked and then reached over to spin me around and slap me on the ass. “Now get out there.”

“If he bites my head off, I’m blaming you,” I said without turning back, mostly joking, but I heard Kaleb’s reply as I opened the back door anyway.

“I think Hardin would cut off his own hands before he laid them on you,” Kaleb said, laughing darkly, like he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

It only made this even harder, but as I closed the door behind me, I realized that a new day was dawning over Santa Clarita. Painting the navy skies with streaks of pink, violet, and the start of a brassy gold. A new day where we were all still here. Still breathing.

And I wasn’t going to waste it.

The yard was quiet. I didn’t know what I expected. Maybe for the shed to be torn apart? Or at the very least to hear the rhythmic thudding of bare knuckles on a heavy bag, chains rattling as it swayed.

But there was nothing. If it weren’t for the door sitting half ajar, I wouldn’t have believed he was in there at all.

As I stepped up the single step and into the shadows, the smells of old paint, metal, and gasoline filled my nose. And there, standing with the heels of his palms pressed hard against his eyes, stood Hardin.

He pulled his hands back as he heard me come in, leveling black eyes on me as a snarl pulled up one corner of his mouth.

“Leave,” he said, his voice laced with poison.

I tried not to let him see how much he could hurt me with just one word, swallowing past the lump in my throat as I clenched my fists.

“No.”

I shut the door behind me and the shadows darkened in the absence of the first rays of dawn light.

“Becca, please. Just fucking g-g-get out.”

“No.”

The dark shape of him moved so fast I didn’t have time to react before he had me against the door, his fist around my throat, his warm breath fanning over my lips. “Why?”

The pads of Hardin’s fingertips were rough against my skin, but he wasn’t squeezing. He wasn’t hurting me. This was a threat. He was trying to scare me off.

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